Boy Scouts – Mitchell's thoughts, photos, etc.

My Pets. Sort of.

I Wonder How Jumper and Oscar Are Doing

Let me set the record straight oter than a few goldfish, I have never had a pet. When I was about nine, a stray dog was wandering my block. It was friendly and let me pet it. Sorry, I do not know if it was a boy or girl. So, I will not say, “he sat by me.” The dog did. I wanted to keep it. I was not allowed. I am allergic to cats and horses. Dogs don’t bother me. But maybe other family members are allergic to them.

Around the same time I wasn’t allowed to keep the dog, I caught a frog at William H. Pouch Scout Camp (Pouch), Staten Island, NY. I went to the camp’s Cub Scout Camp for two summers. I loved it. One afternoon, I caught a frog near Lake Ohrbach. I named it Jumper. I placed my new friend in a small, water-filled cup and held it tightly during my bus ride home. I was so proud when I walked into the house and showed Mom Jumper. She was not happy.

A block or so away are the Woods of Arden, approximately 200 acres of protected green space. I was told, or more likely ordered, to bring Jumper to the Arden Woods. Following orders, I did. I walked in and set him free. I am still shocked I was allowed to go alone. Alas, I did. I let the frog out of my hands, and it jumped into a stream. I am sure it was confused and happy. Jumper was taken out of its former home at Pouch. It had to get used to a new environment. But it was probably happy it was back in living quarters it understood. I am sure it grasped living in a stream is better than it would have been in my living room.

After Pouch, I spent two summers at another day camp. Then I made it to Chappegat Hill, Ten Mile River Scout Camps (TMR), Narrowsburg, NY. I couldn’t wait to go. Other than many weekend overnights and a camping trip or two with dad at Otter Lake, East Stroudsburg, PA, my stay here would be my longest time away from home.

I made many new friends. One friend I didn’t expect to make was Oscar. He was our pet skunk. He was white. I am not sure if he was albino white or just white. We called him our albino white skunk. We never got close enough to inspect whether he really was. But we often saw him walking around the side of our camp’s hill. There are many stories about that section. Old folklore has it that one kid is still cleaning the side of the hill. One day after a BBQ, he made a mess of it, and we made him clean it up. We teased him about it for years after. Still do.

Skunks mostly come out at night or around dawn to look for food. I was the camp’s vampire. I was usually up all night. I got to watch him regularly. I was always the first one up. I rarely slept. That hasn’t changed.

Over the last few days, I have been thinking about Jumper and Oscar. I wonder if they are still roaming around their living quarters. I know what the reality probably is. But I still believe that Jumper is jumping around the Woods of Arden.

Sadly, Chappegat was shuttered in 1988. Its host camp, Kunatah, is being sold. I feel bad for Oscar. I am sure he’s still roaming the side of our hill. Sadly, it has grown in. He is probably looking for us.

Rock Lake in Kunatah, Ten Mile River Scout Camps

Being Rejected When Offering to Volunteer

By Mitchell Slepian

I volunteer for many organizations. I am the chairman of the Ten Mile River Scout Camps Museum. I was vice president of my co-op’s board and built the PR function for American Friends of ELEM, which now has a professional team.

When I volunteered on many political campaigns, I helped run the campaign office. We lived in it. It was fun. We won some. We lost fun. We ate too much junk food. But had a lot of good pizza. Nothing’s better.

I belong to most of NYC’s museums. A few weeks ago, one of them sent an email seeking volunteers for a specific program. I was available during the times they were hoping for people to work and had done some of the work they wanted you to do. I sent an email offering my time.

Weeks went by, and I thought they had forgotten about me. Two days ago, I got an email from them saying that many people had applied and that they could not accommodate everyone. Therefore, they picked the first batch of emails. They thanked us and said if you’re still interested in volunteering to email their volunteer coordinator. I did.

She responded very quickly and told me they didn’t have any opportunities for me. They’d keep my note on file. I learned very young never to turn away a volunteer. In all of the groups I have worked with, we always found work for people to do.

Just last week, I assisted in a volunteer work effort. We had about 10 people packing up donated items for a future museum display. Some people who came have mobility issues, and some are too old to lug boxes up and down a few flights of stairs. Their knees would go out. Did we tell them not to work? Not at all. We found so much constructive work for them to do that they were busy for hours. We fed everyone. We had many food options.

We accomplished a lot over about 4 or 5 hours. The next step is to sort through what we packed and see what we will keep. A few of us already started and filled many trash bags.

The great thing was that we all worked together. We got the job done, and no one was turned away. The entire group will be back for the next volunteer session. Never turn away a volunteer.

My Childhood Home was Destroyed

I am Sitting Shiva for My Leanto

By Mitchell Slepian

Me by my leanto at the bottom of Chappegat Hill

For those of us who never attended Ten Mile River Scout Camps (TMR) or perhaps hiked or camped along the New York State’s Adirondack and Catskill Mountains, along the Finger Lakes Trail, and other parks like Harriman State Park, you might not know what a leanto is. Let me explain. A leanto is a three-walled structure used for sleeping. The front of it is open. You can build a small deck on its front and add screening. You wanna keep the bugs out. But bug juice (a camp drink) is fine.

That’s what I lived during my teen years on Chappegat (Chappy) Hill, TMR. Mine had a deck, screening and electricity. It had fridge stocked with Cherikee Red (A now-discontinued super sugary red soda), other soda, etc. We had boxes of Freihofers chocolate chip cookies and home-baked cookies from Noni (my grandmother). I shared it with my camp friend. Many people crashed in it. Some crashed every night.

The inside and outside of my leanto (1988)

We played Risk, ate food from El Monaco’s (Now closed), McDonald’s, and I kept my Frosted Flakes there. I rarely ate the lish (delicious) meals prepared in the Kunatah Dining Hall. May it stand forever. We played music on Bertha. She was the boom box that one of our crashers brought up to TMR. It was a double-deck cassette player with a CD player on top. Remember those? U2 (My bunkmate hated them. Right now, I have mixed opinions on the band I worshipped all my life.), Steely Dan (My bunkmate loved them), The Clash, Depeche Mode, David Bowie, The Rolling Stones, Sex Pistols, The Beatles, The Who, Mojo Nixon, Jethro Tull, Squeeze, The Ramones, XTC, and, unfortunately, Pink Floyd played 24/7.

Camp was the time of my life. I looked forward to it all year. I remember riding around in the “WhoMobile “(A 1966 F-85, A basic version of an Oldsmobile Cutlass). Sometimes the camp staff drove it. I remember when Kousin Keety (Keith) got his license, and we would ride around listening to “Rock Lobster” by the B-52’s. That’s the only song he had on the tape. We just kept playing it.

I drove the “Truckster” (A 1976 blue Cutlass station wagon). I cranked Depeche and U2. Joey cranked Judas Priest and Metallica. Larry, our assistant scoutmaster, would, in his good nature, make fun of us teens and our music. We would drive him around to Peck’s Supermarket (Now Pete’s), the hardware store, and other places to go shopping for camp. And of course, until we lost him, he teased me about my famous episode of getting lost in Hawley, PA, a Wayne County, Pennsylvania, borough along the Lackawaxen River.

We all had fun canoeing down the Delaware River and swimming in the Ten Mile River. Most of us earned many merit badges. There was special list for those who did not earn badges. I never slept. On my first morning in camp, about an hour before wake-up time, I was sitting at a picnic table by the Palace (our office), staring at the black rattle snake in the fish tank. Larry was walking from the willy (latrine) where he may have come from the shower and asked me what I was doing. I said, I don’t sleep. He decided I was the Chappy vampire. Quickly, everyone knew. They still call me Dracula. It’s cool, unlike Bela Legosi, who’s dead. I am flying around.

We had action-packed days. But eventually, some people needed to sleep. So, we retired to our leantos. Chappy closed after the summer of ’88. It should have never closed. That’s another story. My leanto was at the top of the hill. To get to the top, you climbed muddy steps.

After Chappy closed, my leanto was moved to the bottom of the hill. I slept in it during Alumni Weekend of 2009. I visited it on every alumni weekend. The grounds of Chappy were part of the Rock Lake Camps (D1 Kothke, D2 Chappy, D3 Kunatah, and D4 Ihpetonga). Sadly, that section is in the process of being sold. Much of what was there was destroyed, my leanto was marked, “NOT TO BE DESTROYED.”

I am chair of the Ten Mile River Scout (TMR) Museum, located at TMR’s HQ. At our facility, we have the Dr. Karl E. Bernstein (My camp hero) Cayuga/Kotohke Cabin, a willy (Sadly it is not operational), and the former Kunatah Trading Post, which will soon be the Hal Rosenfeld Museum Annex. My leanto was supposed to be moved to the museum. A week or so ago, one of our trustees cleared the area where it was situated and got it ready to be moved. He went up a few days later with his friend to haul it over. As soon as he arrived, he saw that a machine had crushed it. There’s nothing left. My name and other names had been scribbled all over it when it was alive. When I heard, part of me died. To all my camp friends, remember the trails you hiked and the lakes you jumped into. You never know when they may be taken from you. I am sitting shiva. You’re welcome to join me.

Be Prepared – Wear Boots

Most readers know I am an Eagle Scout. Many likely know the Scout Motto is “Be Prepared.” The meaning of this takes on many definitions. The more formal, as written by our founder in the Boy Scout Handbook, is you are always in a state of readiness in mind and body to do your duty. Of course, being prepared can also mean you have the tools you need to do your duty.

One of the tools needed, whether in scouts or anywhere else, is a good pair of boots. No, this story will not be about the Boot. That’s an inside joke. It will be about the importance of protecting your feet. I have owned a few pairs of Timberlands. I currently own the classic boot and a more recreational pair. Those boots are still waterproof and do their job. Of course, I have my Docs. I love them, too.

A few years ago, I spent about two weeks in Iceland. The weather was great. We did lots of hiking; the freshly caught salmon and cod were “lish,” another inside joke meaning delicious. The weather was typical Icelandic. It was warm, and suddenly it started to rain, snow, or hail. I was on many trails. Some people were wearing sneakers. Not I. I had my trusted boots. My feet stayed dry the whole time. At one point, I thought they were wet. That is not the case. My feet were a little sweaty. A quick boot sock adjustment cured it all. Those in sneakers were not happy.

I often take pictures of the Coney Island Polar Bears. One day, I hope to go in. One of them has told me I should. She said it is exhilarating. I often walk right into the water in, yes, you guessed it, my boots. As usual, my feet stay dry. I only went a little deeper than the length of the Timberlands.

I spent about two weeks in the Republic of and Northern Ireland a few weeks ago. Wonderful place. I highly recommend it. A co-worker did a similar trip two weeks before I did. She said to make sure you have appropriate footwear. I flew out in my boots and wore them nonstop. I had my Skechers sneakers in my suitcase. I put them on at night when we finish our day trips. Many were beautiful hikes along the spectacular Irish countryside. We had periods of mist and rain. Some people were in sandals or sneakers. Were they happy? No, their feet were soaked. One morning, we didn’t have any significant hikes planned. I was up at the crack of dawn. I always am. It was one of the days we had a later start. Some people chose to sleep in. Not I. I walked and walked in my sneakers. I saw a lighthouse. The road was dry. The path of the building was wet. About 20 minutes into my walk, my feet were drenched through my socks. I never made it to the lighthouse—no big deal. I saw many. I returned to the hotel and changed into my Timberlands with fresh boot socks.

Iceland and Ireland have unique hand-knit wool products. In both nations, I purchased several pairs of socks. Nothing beats them on a cold, wet day. Since I came home from Dublin, we’ve had heavy rain. You know the drill.

Well, it’s time for a hike. See you on the trails.